Sunshine
by kate avalanche
Summary: The way he makes me feel…the way Kenny makes me feel…is warm. And that makes sense, because, in the back of my head, I've always thought he was a little bit like the sun. ...there, I said it. Stenny, Stan's POV


Wtf, Katie's writing a Stenny? I know; I'm surprised too. Blame deviantArt's amazing Kinky-Chichi. Also, and I apologize in advance if it makes your eyes hurt, but I was a giant punctuation whore with this fic. This is the first thing I've ever written in first person, and it's difficult for me to capture the cadence and feel of a teenage boy's speech pattern without flinging punctuation around all willy nilly. So if there's anything that strikes you as weird in here, I promise I did it for a reason and thought about it. It wasn't just to make people's eyes bleed.

I don't know how this is going to come out. I was never the best with words. That was always Kyle's strong point. All I know is…I've got to say this. If I don't, I think this feeling will just keep growing and growing and eventually make me explode.

It's growing anyway, but in a softer way. Instead of it being jagged and harsh and forcing its way out of me, it's quiet and comfortable and filling, until I could swear that even my fingertips and toes are warm.

Warm. That's a good word for it.

The way he makes me feel…the way Kenny makes me feel…is warm. And that makes sense, because, in the back of my head, I've always thought he was a little bit like the sun.

I told you I didn't know how this would come out.

But Kenny really is sort of like the sun. There's the obvious reason that his hair is so yellow – more gold, really. You'd think that always being scrunched under his parka hood would make it matted and gross, but the rare times he's got the hood down, I have a hard time keeping my eyes off of that bright, bright gold hair. Or that smile that he flashes so easily, as if he hadn't a care in the world, as if he weren't dirt poor and his father weren't an alcoholic and he probably wouldn't die sometime in the next week.

I don't know how he does it.

But that's the other reason I've always thought Kenny was like the sun. Nearly every day as a kid – less now, but it still happens sometimes – Kenny died. Here's the strangest part though. He always came back. Just like the sun, he would go away, and I always felt this sense that something vital was gone, and just like the sun he would come back, and that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach shut up the instant I saw that smile.

So the first time we… well.

It was at one of Bebe's parties, and all the girls were playing in the pool, so all of the guys were staring at the boobs on display. I'm pretty sure you've guessed by now that I don't give a shit about tits, and so I just wandered off. I've always been a fan of quiet and calm, two things in short supply in South Park. Now that I think about it though, I don't really know why Kenny chose to wander off too. I don't know that Kenny has a set orientation. If I had to call it something, I think I'd just call it "sexual". Whatever the reason was, I'm pretty glad he did come find me.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room. It was basically silent, since everyone was outside. For a couple minutes, the only motion I saw was a glimpse of a cat butt running into another room; I'm guessing it was Bebe's cat, Snowball. After jumping a little from that sudden movement, I started to relax back into the couch, ignoring that my trunks were going to leave a wet, Stan's ass-shaped spot in the cushion. I closed my eyes, letting out this breath that I'd been holding and sinking back, finally feeling a little less tightly wound.

I don't know why I cracked one eye open a couple minutes later. It's not like I heard anything… That's one thing that I can't decide if I love or hate about Kenny. He doesn't make any sound when he walks. But I did, and there he was, standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen with that smile that made my face feel hot for no good reason. The sliding glass door in the kitchen was still open, and on the linoleum behind him, I saw wet footprints. I guess he had been in the pool with the girls, and maybe gotten sick of it? Or maybe he came in just to find me. I've never asked.

The light in the living room was off, so he was lit only from the kitchen light behind him. I felt my face getting hotter when I saw the way the fluorescent light that should have made anyone look ugly only made him look amazing. Somehow his hair was already drying, individual bits fluffing up to catch the light and – I'm pretty sure I'm going red just talking about it.

But, God. Kenny McCormick is amazing.

Anyway, he moved out of the doorway and into the living room, and his smile changed a little. Before that smile, I'd never really noticed, but Kenny's teeth? They're _sharp_.

But he moves forward and he's slipping into that walk that he does without even realizing it, where his hips – how can a boy so damn underfed have hips like that? – are swaying a little. His chin is tilted down so his eyes are the first thing I see, and if it weren't for the _heat_ there, I probably would have been jumping between looking at them and the droplets of water slipping down towards his hips and the expanse of bare chest and oh, that hair. It was almost all dry now, and strands kept falling in front of his eyes, so even trapped as I was by his eyes, I still got to see that bright gold.

And all of a sudden, his knees were on either side of mine, bumping against the front end of the couch. I felt his skinny arms slide along my shoulders and he leaned down. I remember his face getting closer and closer to mine and I was sure he was going to kiss me, but at the last second, he went to the side. Still, his cheek brushed against mine as he moved.

"What are you doing all alone in here, Stan?" every word he said touched his lips to the edge of my ear.

I think I stammered something stupid, because he pulled back to look me in the eyes and gave a little laugh.

And then, he did kiss me. And if you've never been kissed by Kenny McCormick, holy shit dude. Partway through the kiss, I noticed that he wasn't standing against the couch anymore. Somehow, the sneaky bastard had managed to get his knees on either side of my hips and was straddling my lap, and I had been so distracted by everything else he was doing that I didn't catch on until…

It was like he knew everything I liked, even when I didn't know about it myself. I mean, I hadn't ever done something like this. I'd always thrown up on Wendy before we could get far, and I'd assumed the closest thing I'd have to a relationship was being Kyle's Super Best Friend. I was so, so wrong.

At first, Kenny was surprisingly gentle, more resting his lips against mine than kissing. He opened his mouth and his teeth touched my bottom lip. Did I mention how fantastically sharp they are? Because they definitely are. He didn't exactly bite down, but his teeth closed a little and I think I moaned, because Kenny definitely gave this weird purr and rolled his hips against mine; that was when I noticed he was on me.

Then the warmth in my cheeks that had felt like I was burning was suddenly lukewarm compared to the heat that exploded between my legs, and if I hadn't made a noise before, I definitely did then. Kenny smirked, and damn if that expression wasn't sexy too. My hands moved all on their own and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pulling that smirking mouth down so I could kiss him again.

His lips tasted like chlorine and pepperoni pizza, and his skin smelled like sunscreen, summer, and…Kenny. Underneath everything else, he was just Kenny.

And that was the sexiest part of all.

Before I really knew what was going on – see a pattern here? – he had me by the wrist and was pulling me upstairs. The heat in his eyes was like fire by then, and whenever I made the mistake of looking at them directly, I stopped being able to breathe. Totally worth it though. A few stairs before the top, I couldn't take it anymore. I shoved him against the railing and attacked his mouth. I sort of remember his hands flailing, trying to find something to hold on to. Eventually they settled on my ass, which was ok by me.

I should have noticed the creaks. That railing wasn't meant to support two horny teenage boys. But I didn't hear them; I only heard the amazing noises Kenny made every time I rolled my hips into his.

Then, the railing made this shriek that I swear I will remember forever, and all of a sudden Kenny fell backwards and I fell on top of him. The back of his head hit the floor with a crack, and he went still. And those eyes went dull for the thousandth time since I'd met him.

And for the first time in years, I cried when Kenny died.

It took him dying three more times before I realized just what this feeling is.

I am in love with Kenny McCormick.

There, I said it.


End file.
